[15: You’re sitting in a restaurant and look across the dining room and
see...]

Sama kicked Meera under the table. 

"Ow! Stop that!" Meera glared at her sister.

"Sorry. What's that brown stuff in that bottle?"

"They call it 'Brown sauce'"

"That's silly. I want to know what it tastes like!"

"What, you don't know what brown tastes like?"

"Brown's a color, not a taste!"

"Well, then, what about orange? That's a flavor."

"No fair!" Sama squealed and Meera looked up nervously to see if anyone was
bothered by the outburst. Mercifully, nobody in the restaurant was looking
their way, and if they were bothered, they were too polite to say anything.

"What do you want to eat?" Meera whispered across the table.

"I don't know! I've never had any of it!"

"Me either. But Rajneesh back home said we'd come home fat from eating fish
and chips. I'm going to try that."

"Okay."

"What's po-ta-to?"

"Aloo."

"Why don't they write that?"

"Because they only speak English here, and that's the Hindi word."

"Oh." Sama made a face. "I thought it was English." She paused. "I miss
father. He always orders what I like."

"I miss him too. But they said they could come visit in the spring time,
when we have a break from school."

"That's a long time."

"I know. But we have Uncle Ram."

"What if I don't like Uncle Ram?"

"You met him before! He came to Rajneesh's wedding, remember?"

"I was two. I don't remember."

"Oh. Well then. He's nice. Stern. But he's nice."

"Like father?"

Meera sighed and shrugged. "Different. You'll see tomorrow." She was glad
when the waiter approached the table and asked for their order. Three days
alone to explore London was exhausting with Sama asking question after
question, and right after the long plane trip.